Love & Loss
A/N: In honor of Taylor Swift's newest album coming out (be still my wildly flapping heart), I thought I would divert a little bit from Fault Lines and post another series of shorts inspired by her album 'evermore.' It's probably one of my favorites, and I think everyone should give it a listen :) As always, the shorts are unrelated, and a variety of moods, not always direct from the quotes but perhaps inspired by. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: The music belongs solely to T-Swift, my hero.
(PS - I've been wanting to write #16 for a lonnnng time).
Chapter 3: Evermore
#1 - Willow
The more that you say, the less I know
Wherever you stray, I follow
I'm begging for you to take my hand
Wreck my plans
He asked her to stay, and she didn't know why. He'd also told her about seeing Kate, and she didn't know why he'd done that either. In fact, he'd been doing so many things lately that baffled her. He'd fought to save her from getting her hand hacked away. He'd returned for her, when they were running from the flaming arrows.
He looked to her for feedback, for guidance. He sought her opinion, which meant he cared what it was. When had that happened?
Now, searching his eyes for an answer, with the slapping of the waves accompanying the sound of his request, she thought she might see something there. Hope? Desperation? Longing? But for what? Certainly not for her. What could she possibly give him that he didn't already have, somewhere out there right now?
But… they were stuck here. They weren't out there. And despite the flippancy of his explanation for the request, she sensed genuine truth behind his words. He didn't want her to leave him, and it seemed to take everything in him to even ask that she stay.
Despite herself, her heart caught in her throat. After everything she'd been through here, the sub was right there. Would she stay? Could she stay?
But she supposed the real question was: how could she not?
"Alright. Two weeks."
His grin was all she needed to know she'd made the right call. That, and her wildly beating heart at all the possibilities that staying would bring.
#2 - Champagne Problems
One for the money, two for the show
I never was ready, so I watch you go
"Someday she's gonna notice," Miles grumbled as he bit into his sandwich. He and James were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria, and Juliet was standing in line to get her food. Her hip jutted out just so, giving James the perfect angle to spy on her ass.
James felt his face flush. He hadn't meant to stare. "Notice what?" he bit back, and took another bite of his own sandwich.
Miles rolled his eyes. It was practically painful at this point, watching his friends pine after each other. "Seriously, her ass is gonna spontaneously burst into flame if you look at it any harder, man."
"I ain't lookin' at her ass," James tried defending, but he knew there was no convincing Miles otherwise. He did have eyes, after all.
"Whatever dude," Miles sighed, and shook his head in dismay. "You need to either tell her how you feel or stop. I can't take this shit anymore. You look like a lost freakin' puppy."
"I do not!"
Miles gave him a pointed look. The two men battled it out, a tournament of harsh stares and clenched jaws, neither saying a word. Surprisingly, James conceded, and let out a long, tired breath before cutting his eyes back to see where Juliet was in line. She was smiling, talking to the person behind the counter as she grabbed a salad.
"See?!" Miles hissed, and James frowned before turning sadly back to his sandwich. He suddenly wasn't all that hungry anymore.
"She ain't gonna go for a guy like me, Genghis, so leave it alone." The comment took Miles off guard. Here was this swagger-tastic, lowrise-jeans-wearing cowboy, with all the confidence of an (actual) con-man, and he was put off by Juliet? When she clearly gave him the same goo-goo eyes anytime she entered a room that was 'lucky enough' to have him in it, breathing its air?
What the fuck?
"Dude, get over yourself. She likes you. Just freakin' talk to her, man," he tried to say, but he could tell by James's hardened face that it was falling on deaf ears. He sighed, and almost - for a fraction of a second - felt bad for his friend. Clearly all the good looks in the world can't create self-esteem.
Juliet sat down at the table beside James, who was careful to keep his arm from skimming against hers. Miles saw Juliet watch him from the corner of her eye, before turning a precarious shade of pink. He shook his head, watching this train wreck that didn't have to happen, and tried to make his peace with it.
They'd get over it eventually, he reasoned, and in the meantime? They were the ones who'd have to suffer, not him.
#3 - Gold Rush
What must it be like
To grow up that beautiful?
With your hair falling into place like dominos
I see me padding 'cross your wooden floors
With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door
Miles came home for lunch, hoping to finish the leftover lasagna from the night before. It had been so good, and there was only one piece left. If he risked going to the cafeteria for lunch, James or Jin might get to it first, and his roommates would never abide by the 'claiming it' rule. Hell, Jim would probably eat it just to spite him if he asked them to save it for him.
He should have noticed something was off right away, but guys were guys and the house was messy. That wasn't too unusual. But the closer Miles got to the fridge, the more he began noticing the clothes on the floor didn't belong to them. In fact, upon further inspection, the clothes on the floor didn't belong to any man.
Which meant…
Miles almost dropped the plate. He moved his hand just in time for the plate to slide across the kitchen counter. The lasagna was safe. But there was a woman in the house. He concentrated his hearing, and he could tell now. There were muffled sounds coming from Jim's room. Miles felt frozen - completely rooted to the spot with indecision. Should he leave? Should he keep his plan to heat up the lasagna in the oven and have lunch in peace, as intended?
Could he though? God, the sounds were getting louder now. He pulled at his hair, wondering what the fuck to do. He didn't want to listen to this, it was gross as shit, but also… who the hell was he in there with?!
He decided he'd leave, and then come back inside, being extra loud to really announce his presence. Then maybe they'd hear him and stop. He took a deep breath, walked outside, and came back in, slamming the door behind him.
"Hey JIM! You want some LUNCH!?" he called out, wincing as he did so. The squeaking stopped. The moaning quieted. Miles sighed in relief, and went back to work popping the slice into the oven. "You home, Jim?" he called out again, really hammering it home.
And then he remembered the fucking clothes.
"Oh shit," he murmured softly. He hadn't thought this through.
James barrelled out of his bedroom, his white Dharma bathrobe clenched in his fists. He was fuming. "The hell are you doin' home, Casper?!" he hissed, pointing an accusatory finger Miles's way.
Miles's eyes flicked to the floor. "You're not alone, are you?" he asked in reply, ignoring James's question.
"That's none 'a your damn business - now answer my question."
His tone didn't sit well with Miles. Had he just been friendlier, perhaps Miles would have left him be, as soon as his food was done warming up. He could have eaten it on the porch, or on the bench near their house, but now… now Miles was curious.
"Who's in there, Jim?" Miles asked, slicking the tip of his tongue over his front teeth. James was bright red, either from exertion or fury. Maybe both.
"None. Of your damn. Business."
"Hmmm… well… maybe I wanna spend my hour lunch break here, maybe that's why I'm home. Sure, it's a nice day, but kicking my feet up and enjoying the couch sounds pretty nice, too."
"Then we'll just be louder," James threatened, tone low and serious.
Miles laughed. "So there's definitely someone here then. Good to know. I'm sure she's gonna feel real comfortable knowing I'm home. I'm sure you'll be able to pick right back up where you left off." Miles knew gloating wouldn't win him any favor here. But what choice was Jim leaving him, really? "Tell me who it is and I'll go," he offered - a solution where both parties would win.
"Not a chance," James growled, and moved menacingly towards Miles. "Now. Scram."
Miles dodged around the dining room table, stooping low to pick up the t-shirt. It was soft and worn, for some band he'd never cared for. It had a tiny hole in the seam on the side, which tugged on a corner of Miles's memory. But why?
"I wanna know who it is," he said again, rubbing his thumb along the hole. James snatched it out of his hands, balling it up in his fist.
"No," he said again, more loudly. "Unless you want an ass whoopin', ya best skedaddle. I mean it. Leave."
Miles dodged James's reach once more, darting to the side and standing between James and the long hallway. He knew he could easily walk down, open the door, and find out for himself. But the barely controlled rage on James's face told him he might not survive if he did that. So he stood there instead, racking his brain for why that shirt looked so familiar. They stood, facing each other and unmoving, for the whole twenty seconds it took for realization to dawn on Miles's face.
And James knew they were screwed. She just had to be wearing that shirt? He grit his teeth, waiting for Miles to finally speak.
"Holy… shit," he whispered. He pointed weakly to the shirt. In the distance, the timer went off for his lasagna. He barely heard it.
Just last month they'd gone fishing. Juliet had gotten tangled in the fishing line, and the hook had ripped a tiny hole in her shirt. She'd complained, saying it was her favorite shirt and now it was ruined. Jim had told her it just gave the shirt more character. Holy shit!
James's eyes softened, and his shoulders slumped. He looked defeated, and the laughter died in Miles's throat before he could get it out. With his expression alone, James begged him not to say anything. His eyes kept cutting to where his door remained closed, and once more the timer went off.
Miles sighed. He shook his head, aggravated, and walked to James, sticking his finger in his face. "You owe me one," he asserted, and went to remove his lasagna. He wrapped it back in foil, grabbed a fork, and went to leave the house, grumbling to himself all the while.
Before the door could swing closed behind him, James called out, "Hey Miles?" The use of his own name was enough to give him pause. He turned to look at him over his shoulder. He looked relieved, and years younger now that the wrinkles had smoothed from his face. "Thank you."
Miles inhaled deeply through his nose. "Whatever," he grumbled, and left. He made it two steps before he heard the lock turn.
#4 - Tis the Damn Season
The holidays linger like bad perfume
You can run, but only so far
James hated Christmas. All the joy and cheer and plastic and capitalism - it had never been something he'd enjoyed. Not while Uncle Doug could barely afford to get him anything, and not when the 'meaning' behind the holiday had always been tarnished by the generic, unrealistic expectations kids placed on Santa Claus. No - even as an adult, James hadn't given two shits about St. Nick or anything the holiday had to offer.
Now, they were in goddamn 1974 Faux-Suburbia on a fucking island he hated so much, surrounded by people who were gonna get wiped out in a good fifteen years, putting up plastic trees when (shocker!) they were surrounded by real ones. It grated James's soul - everything about all of this.
It was no surprise when even Jin, of all people, started calling him the Grinch. Sure, Miles had started it, but Jin had agreed. Jin, whose wife and baby were out there somewhere without him, still managed to find something to be cheerful about. James didn't know what irritated him more: the holiday itself, or being the only one who seemed irritated by it. It felt isolating.
Juliet found him tossing rocks savagely against the churning waves. The wind was whipping his hair around his face, making his eyes sting. She carried something behind her back - he couldn't tell what it was, nor did he really care. He wanted to be alone, and she was ruining it.
"What're you doing out here, James?" she asked him, raising her voice enough to be heard over the dull roar from the waves pounding against the rocks below.
He flashed her an angry look, hoping she'd get the hint. She didn't.
"None 'a your damn business," he growled, but half-under his breath. He said it, but it's not like he really meant it.
Juliet nodded, understanding. She figured the holidays must be hard in general, given what she knew from his file. He'd never opened up, not really, in the few months she'd known him, but she knew enough about his past to assume Christmas might've been an unpleasant time for him.
She was determined to change that. She didn't know how, but she was determined all the same.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and her touch startled him. He hadn't sensed her getting closer to him, and yet she'd snuck into his personal space like a shadow. When he turned to face her, he blanched.
In her hands were two gingerbread cookies. One had yellow icing for hair, a red shirt, and blue jeans, not dissimilar to what she was wearing now. The other, which had a muddled yellowy brown color for hair, was wearing a black and red checkered shirt that looked sloppy and uneven, with the red and black colors smearing into one another. It too had blue legs, black feet, and wore a cartoonish frown on its face. Juliet beamed, and James blinked his eyes three times before meeting her wide-eyed stare.
"It's us!" she cried out, and moved the two gingerbread people like they were dancing. She hummed 'Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree' and wiggled the one shaped like him, bringing it closer and closer to his face. She bit her lip as she did so, and subconsciously wiggled her hips along to the beat.
James lost it. His howl cut through the wind and he dropped the rocks from his hands so he could bend over and place his palms on his knees. It was too much. She was too much.
"That's US?" he laughed, and straightened up before rubbing a hand over his face in wonder. Her smile faltered slightly, trying to decide if he was making fun of her, but when he carefully extricated the 'James' cookie from her hand, holding it delicately and almost with reverence, she knew he was just surprised.
"Yeah. I made them," she announced proudly. "I love making cookies, especially at the holidays."
"And you came all the way down here to bring me - me?" he confirmed with eyebrows raised and awe in his voice. She beamed. He liked it, after all.
"Yeah. I figured you'd use up all your energy - throwing rocks and, you know, kicking the ocean's ass, and maybe you'd need a snack. To refuel." She smirked and nudged him with her elbow.
"Besides the weird hair, I can see the resemblance."
"Hey - your hair isn't easy to get right. It's easily six different shades of blonde, and I had to differentiate it somehow."
James straightened. "You pay much attention to my hair, Blondie?"
Juliet's grin faded. "Yeah," was all she offered in response. After a brief, almost awkward beat of silence, she inhaled deeply and finally blinked. "You want to trade? I'll have you, you can have me?"
James couldn't explain why his heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. But he nodded, swallowing hard, and handed her Gingerbread James back. She handed him Gingerbread Juliet, and he watched her lips as she bit down on the rich dark arm, covered in the black and red frosting. She wiped the corner of her lip and nodded to him, encouraging him to try some. He did, and had to admit it was a pretty damn good cookie; soft and rich, but not too sweet.
"Figures you'd go for my head," Juliet commented wryly, and took another tentative bite of his arm.
"I like the blonde hair," he murmured. Her eyes widened slightly, and she shifted her weight to one foot.
Hell - if Juliet liked baking like this at the holidays… maybe this year wasn't going to be too bad after all.
#5 - Tolerate It
I sit and watch you reading with your head low
I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed
I sit and watch you
I notice everything you do or don't do
Juliet couldn't sleep. It was almost midnight, but no matter how she tossed and turned, the bed creaking and groaning beneath her only agitated her, making it impossible to relax enough to get comfortable. They'd been here almost a month, and still nothing felt right about any of it. It had been so long since she'd fallen asleep before eleven, even on work nights when her body was exhausted. Tonight was no exception, apparently.
She finally stood, growling to herself. She slipped on a pair of socks and padded out into the living room. Perhaps there was a book on the bookshelf that would put her to sleep, or at the very least, ease her boredom.
To her great surprise, she found James. Clearly she wasn't the only one battling insomnia. He sat on the couch, in an old grey t-shirt and his plaid boxers, reading a book in the dim light of the living room floor lamp. His eyes flicked up to hers, startled by her sudden appearance. She suddenly felt very self-conscious of her short nightgown and the fact that she was braless. She really hadn't thought anyone else was awake, otherwise she would have attempted to appear more decent.
"Hey," he murmured. His glasses slipped a bit down his nose, making Juliet grin.
"Hey," she said back, tucking her hair behind her ears - a nervous habit. "Can't sleep?" He shook his head, but surprised her even further by patting the seat next to him. She took it, sitting down almost gingerly and tucking her legs to the side, attempting to cover them with her nightgown.
She watched his fingers flex against his book. He put it down onto his lap, as if wanting to make conversation. So she waited. He gave a low chuckle, and she wondered when things got weird between them. They certainly hadn't been this awkward earlier.
"I just thought I might come out and read," she explained finally, breaking the silence.
He nodded before wiggling the book in his hands. "Me too. Jin snorin' keepin' you up?"
She shook her head. "No. Just… can't relax."
He nodded again, this time more slowly. "I see."
"I didn't mean to interrupt your alone time. I can grab a book and take it back to my - " she started to say, but James interrupted her.
"No way. I could use a little company. Stay." She couldn't help but laugh. How many times was he going to ask her to do that? And how many times was she going to listen?
He cast her a funny look as she rose, thinking she was going to abandon him. But she walked to the bookcase, trailing her finger along some of the used spines. She felt him watching her as she did so, and wondered what on earth he must be thinking about.
She landed on Jane Austen's Persuasion. She loved that book in college, so she gently pried it from the shelf and resumed her earlier seat. His eyes followed her, tracking her movements and making her feel very much exposed. As if he could read her mind, he pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and offered it to her. She smiled gratefully, draped part of it over her lap, and offered him the other half. Once more, he gave her that same funny, almost suspicious, look before pulling the blanket over his legs.
For a while, they read in silence. But Juliet soon grew distracted. The heat radiating from James under the blanket was exceptional. Every so often, she'd catch a whiff of his shampoo when he flicked his hair out of his eyes. He must have gotten to something interesting, because his thumbnail was clenched between his front teeth. She watched as his eyes traveled over the page, drinking in whatever was going on in the story. His breathing would huff and he'd shake his head, reacting in a way Juliet thought was adorable. He seemed so enraptured.
Almost as much as she was by him. Almost.
#6 - No Body, No Crime
No, there ain't no doubt
I think I'm gonna call him out
She says, "I think he did it but I just can't prove it"
Juliet awoke to a scrabbling sound coming from the hallway. Her eyes flew open, heart hammering and on instant high-alert. James wasn't in bed, but the hallway light was on. Perhaps it was him. But what was he doing home? She eyed the clock - he was still supposed to be on shift.
Tentatively, she rose from the bed, tiptoeing across the room to nudge open the door. James was on his knees with his back to her, sifting through the contents of the closet.
"What are you doing?" she asked softly, trying not to startle him. When he turned to look at her, his eyes were wild. He had leaves in his hair and… was that blood on his hands?
Juliet's stomach lurched into her throat. "What happened?" she demanded, and straightened her spine, trying to keep herself from touching him. He looked like a wild animal, rabid and trapped.
"I didn't mean it…" he whispered. His voice was shaking. "He came at me first, I swear…" He wasn't making any sense. Juliet swallowed hard, and sunk down to her knees. Hands outstretched, she slowly placed them onto James's shoulders.
"Tell me what happened," she commanded gently, watching the way her words seemed to put a spell over him. They always did, when she used that voice.
"He came at me. I retaliated. I defended myself, Juliet, ya gotta know - I didn't mean - I…" Now Juliet was officially scared. She'd never seen him this panicked.
"Did you kill someone? James, did you kill a hostile?" she asked, hands still pressed firmly into his shoulders. He swallowed, and she felt his body begin to tremble. This was bad. This was more than bad. The head of security killing a hostile would mean war.
No one could find out.
So Juliet stood. She went into the bedroom and pulled on her jeans and socks from earlier. She tied her hair back into a ponytail and rejoined James in the hallway. He looked stunned. "You find the rope and duct tape, I'll go get the shovel from Amy's garden. If we leave now, no one will notice. We can take the path behind the motor pool - the cameras can't see there."
James nodded, agreeing with her plan. He wondered how she knew about the cameras. Maybe she listened to him when he talked about his job more than he gave her credit for. He said nothing, but gathered what she'd asked for. When she returned, he looked almost back to normal.
"Thanks for havin' my back," he said quietly. He hated himself for roping her into this, but he couldn't do this alone. He didn't know what to do. He'd really fucked up.
Juliet tried to smile at him, but it was weak. "I'll always have your back," she reminded him. "Now let's go bury this body."
#7 - Happiness
Past the blood and bruise
Past the curses and cries
Beyond the terror in the nightfall
Haunted by the look in my eyes
That would've loved you for a lifetime
Leave it all behind
James's dreams were filled with screams. Not his own, not usually, but Juliet's. Always Juliet's.
Her broken body would cry out for him. He'd feel his tendons tugging, tearing, as her weight was pulled down, away from him. He'd find her, bleeding and broken, but eyes still as bright as he'd ever seen them.
He'd smell her scent mixed with the acrid, burning smell of smoke and metal and iron and blood. The tang would nauseate him.
But the ending - the ending was never the same. Some nights, he'd be unable to say anything. She'd pour her love out for him, and he'd remain mute and still as a statue. Some nights, he'd find himself cursing her for doing this to him, as if it were all her fault. Most nights, he'd be unable to do anything but sob as he held her, feeling such regret, he felt almost paralyzed.
But occasionally, randomly, he'd tell her how much he loved her. He'd whisper everything he'd ever thought, but never had the courage to say:
You saved me. I am who I am because you loved me. I can never repay you for always having my back. I love you more than I've ever loved anything, or anyone, and I always will. You are my entire world.
Those nights, those rare instances, those were the ones that hurt the worst. Because even though she'd smile in the dream and drift away, secure in the stability and truth of their love, James would jolt awake, knowing he'd never had the courage to say any of those things to her aloud before.
And it was too late now. She'd never know.
#8 - Dorothea
But it's never too late
To come back to my side
Day four of patrol, and still nothing. James took a stick in his hand and whipped it hard at a nearby tree in frustration. It cracked in two, splintering right down the center. He understood its pain.
The snapping distracted them from the presence lurking behind them. Juliet was concerned about James, who looked like he was about to lose it, and James felt sick, not knowing what to do next. He really thought they'd find something by now - anything.
It took Richard clearing his throat for James and Juliet to whip around, guns aimed his way. His hands were raised in surrender, though he was certain his men had rifles of their own directed towards the two strangers, should they try anything.
"The hell do you want?" the tall man growled. He had shaggy hair, and Richard vaguely remembered him introducing himself as Jim, just after he'd asked about Jughead. But the blonde - he'd never seen her before.
"I just want to talk," Richard announced, and lowered his hands slowly to his side, palms out. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"Call off your men," the blonde commanded, voice full of clear, confident authority. It caught him off-guard. "I know you have two, maybe three men behind the treeline. Rifles, I'd suspect. So tell them to drop it, and we can talk."
Richard gritted his teeth. How would she have known that? Now that he really analyzed her, she did look somewhat familiar, and if he had to bet, she was likely a part of John Locke's group too. As if he needed more convincing, she uttered a single other phrase, almost stopping his heart completely. "Nunc." Now.
Richard gave the signal, and hoped his men were obeying. His eyes flitted between Jim and the woman. "What's your name?" he asked. The woman shot a look towards Jim - a silent question, asking permission.
"You don't need to know her name," Jim announced, and both of them lowered their weapons, tucking them away in the backs of their pants.
It was strange to Richard, seeing the two interact. It was as if they could communicate without words. He figured they must have been together a long while to develop as deep of a bond as they seemed to have. "I just want to talk," he said again, more urgently.
"So talk!" Jim spread his arms wide, tilting his head a little in sarcastic invitation.
Richard pursed his lips. "You said you weren't Dharma. I believed you. But yet you still stay with them. Why?"
Jim scoffed, as if the answer were obvious. It wasn't, not to Richard. Those people were bad news, and these newcomers must not know the half of it. "Beds, Maybelline! Food, a roof, runnin' water. Need I say more?"
"Those things don't matter, if you knew what the Dharma Initiative was really about," Richard cautioned. He took a step forward, and Jim reached his hand out, a silent warning to stay back. The other pulled the blonde woman so she stood behind him. She gave him a curious look, something Richard found puzzling. It looked like she was surprised by his actions.
"I don't care what the hell they're doin'. We ain't stayin' long enough to find out."
"Oh? So I'm assuming you have a way to get back to your own time, then?"
Jim pursed his lips and ground his teeth. "Not yet. But we will. And when we do, we're outta here. So we ain't gettin' involved in your little feud, okay McCoy?"
Richard shook his head, confused by the funny names. Did he just not know what his name was? No, he was certain he'd said it aloud.
Something must have shown on Richard's face because Jim added, "Look - Richard. Just say what ya wanna say, and we'll be on our way, alright?"
Richard straightened. "Come with me. With us. We can help you find a way back to where you belong."
The blonde's eyes widened, and she took an involuntary step forward, something Jim was expecting. He held her back. "Nuh-uh. No way. We ain't spyin' for you, neither, so don't even bother askin'. We're comfy enough where we are. We don't need you."
"But James," the blonde whispered. Richard barely heard it.
Jim turned to face her. He looked softer somehow, when he looked at her. "No. He can't promise us nothin'. We got a good thing right now, okay? Grass ain't always greener." She opened her mouth as if to protest, but shut it back again, looking dejected.
Richard tried to catch her eye, but she stared hard at the jungle floor. "Look, Jim - whatever you're looking for, we can help. Okay? Just join us, and we'll figure it out together."
Jim reached behind him, slipping his hand into the blonde's. Once more, her eyes brightened the moment his palm touched her. "No. Thanks, but no thanks. Now you best get goin'. We got places to be." He backed away slowly, bringing the blonde with him.
Before they could get too far, Richard tried one last time. He called out, "Tu unus ex nobis!" You are one of us.
The woman's eyes closed and she bit her lip. She shook her head, following after Jim. Richard stood there long after they left, with far more questions than he had answers.
#9 - Coney Island
And if this is the long haul
How'd we get here so soon?
Did I close my fist around something delicate?
Did I shatter you?
Laundry. The fight started over laundry. Juliet thought James would be bringing it inside from the line behind their house before the impending storm, because it was his turn to do laundry this week, but he thought she was going to do it because she got home from work sooner than he did. And why wouldn't she? She knew the storm was coming in just as much as he did.
But you don't scream over laundry. You don't shatter a glass and dump the clean, albeit damp clothes on the floor over a miscommunication.
You do these things because of something else - something raw - chafing inside you. Something that's festered and grown like ivy over your heart until it's invaded your perceived happiness and turned it into something evil. Something it's not.
James didn't know how to be. He didn't know how to be this domestic, husbandly person Juliet expected of him. He loved her, he knew that, but when did loving her mean settling for this daily nine to five shit? When did the price of holding her at night mean: "Yes, dear," or "No, dear," and "In a minute, dear." When did they go from fucking every chance they got to the same old, same old, only after dinner and before bed?
Kate had been an untamed beast, leaving James on his toes every moment of every day. Juliet was peaceful and domestic, and comfortable in knowing what to expect from each day. He loved her far more than he ever loved Kate, but day in and day out, James found himself longing for adventure - longing for something to make him feel more than just contentment.
When did they stop hoping to leave? Even Juliet, the one who held out hope the longest, it seemed, out of their small group - she'd stopped talking about it. She seemed to have taken their lives in stride, planning potluck dinners and wanting to create another book club. She was living life comfortably, seemingly happily, whereas James felt like he were at a masquerade - covering just enough of himself to fit in to the scene around him.
He didn't know how to fix it. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He didn't know what to do.
So, he cleaned up the glass. He hung the clothes over furniture, on the backs of chairs and across the table, hoping they'd dry by morning. He drank a few beers and steadied his racing heart.
He adjusted his mask. She could never find out. She wouldn't understand, and he'd be damned if his broken soul cost him the one good thing he had in his cursed life.
She jumped him in the shower the next morning, leaving bite marks on his shoulder. He wondered if it was her way of saying she knew, after all.
#10 - Ivy
I wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed…
…I'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time
Juliet found James drinking on the porch, long after the party had ended. His long, lean legs were stretched in front of him. She watched him tip the beer can up to his lips, and she found herself incredibly jealous.
"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, smiling. She was pretty buzzed herself. She sat down next to him, leaning against the pillar, facing his side.
"I ain't got any," he murmured with a coy smile, and drank another sip.
"Course you do," she said, grinning despite his resistance. "You have lotsa thoughts."
He glanced her way, one eyebrow raised and a curious smirk on his gorgeous face. "You drunk?" he asked warily.
"Not quite," she replied, biting her lip, almost daring him to challenge her. He chuckled, but said nothing.
She felt bold all of a sudden, and got a tingling feeling deep in her belly. "I think you're one of the smartest men I've ever met," she said, voice clear and unblemished by the alcohol singing in her veins. James huffed a disbelieving laugh, but Juliet kept her face neutral, unaffected.
"Whatever, Blondie. You know a lotta doctors and probably lawyers and business guys or whatever. You're off your rocker."
"No, James. I'm serious. You're incredibly intelligent. And I really like that about you." His head whipped to the side, beer midway to his lips. He narrowed his eyes, lips slightly parted. "You heard me," she added, as if she anticipated him arguing with her.
He sputtered for a moment. "You're wrong. I'm just a dumb hick, can't ya tell? I must be a helluva conman if I got you thinkin' there's anything else rattling around up there other than sex and violence."
Juliet shook her head, disapproving of his self-criticism. "When I see you, I see a clever, articulate leader. Someone who can command a room or lie in wait, if he chooses. I see an avid reader who knows far more about world events and pop culture than I do, and I also see someone who can read people better than anyone I know."
He sat his can down, open-mouthed and flabbergasted at her. She continued, leaning in closer to him. "I see someone who wears his heart on his sleeve with people in need. Someone who's overcome more in his lifetime than anyone should ever have to bear. I see a hero who pretends to be the villain, because he thinks it's all he deserves." James closed his mouth, tensing his jaw.
But Juliet continued once more. "You know what I don't see though?" she almost purred, not knowing where this sudden courage was blooming from. But she liked it.
"And what's that?" he asked, voice a little rough, as if he wasn't sure he really wanted to hear it.
She smiled, leaning forward until her face was inches from his. "I don't see a man who's blind to what's so obviously in front of him. I don't see someone who would waste an opportunity, when it's presented to him."
James's face paled. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Juliet." He leaned forward, almost involuntarily, as if she were the opposite side of a magnet, pulling him in against his will. It made Juliet feel like a siren, and she loved it.
"Yes you do," she whispered. Her face was centimeters from his. She could feel his breath landing on her skin. "And when you stop feeling like happiness will always be out of reach, you let me know."
She pressed her lips gently against his cheek. The stubble felt so good against her mouth, and he smelled like beer and something uniquely him. When she smiled, she saw a flash of something unrecognizable in James's eyes. She pulled away, leaving him bewildered. His cheeks were flushed pink and his lips were slightly parted. She'd never seen him at a loss for words before.
Juliet stood and went back inside. She peaked out the window, pleased to see James's fingertips skimming the place her lips had been.
#11 - Cowboy Like Me
You're a bandit like me
Eyes full of stars, hustling for the good life
Never thought I'd meet you here
It could be love, we could be the way forward
And I know I'll pay for it
Waves crashed against the beach. It was nighttime, and the majority of the survivors were asleep in their tents. Juliet watched the black water rolling in, wondering when she'd taken the time to do this last. She always loved coming to the beach at night. It was peaceful, and cool, and smelled wonderful. It brought her peace when not many things did, these days.
She hadn't asked for company. She didn't particularly want it, but she felt the soft footfalls of someone approaching her from behind. Out of instinct, she turned to see who it was. If they were going to have the nerve to attack her, she at least wanted to see it coming.
But it wasn't an attacker. At least, not an obvious one. Sawyer stood behind her, glaring down at her in contempt. And also… with something akin to curiosity, perhaps. She looked up at him, bewildered by his sudden appearance, and truth be told, equally as curious.
"Hello, James," she said softly, trying to appear unphased. He said nothing, but sat down beside her in the soft, cool sand. He brought his knees up, resting his forearms on them. When he didn't say another word, she resumed staring out at the ocean.
"You really got the Doc fooled. But not us," he said, low and deep - a threat.
She nodded, not knowing what to say. She knew it wouldn't be this easy, coming in and convincing everyone she hated the Others just as much (if not more) than they did. Words weren't going to convince him of anything.
"Why don't you just tell us what you want 'n go?"
She bit her lip. She'd been trying to relax, minding her own business and bothering no one. "It's not that simple," she replied.
"And why's that?" he shot back.
Juliet wasn't used to honesty. She'd kept everything close to her chest for three years now, and Jack was the first person in a long time, aside from Goodwin, who she'd let on to her true intentions. It was dangerous, telling Sawyer much of anything. He'd take it and run with it, twisting her words until they'd morphed into something she hadn't meant, and he'd find a way to turn everyone against her. No. She couldn't risk that. But, perhaps she could be honest in other ways. To show him that she was capable of it, at least.
"Because what I want is to go home." He narrowed his eyes, clearly not expecting that from her.
"The hell you mean?"
She sighed. "I mean - I want to go home. I want to leave the island."
Sawyer grunted, as if he didn't believe her. "Y'all got boats, dontcha? Then leave."
Juliet bit her lip. "I wish it were that simple."
"Ain't it though?"
She shook her head. "No. They won't let me. But Ben told me if I helped you and Kate escape, he would. He… he lied. So, I left." It was the truth. Though certainly not the whole truth.
Sawyer considered what she'd said. He looked surprised that she'd said anything at all. "Wait a second… that guy you shot in cold blood - that guy tryin' to kill us. You killed him cuz you thought Ben was gonna let you go home?" He laughed. The sound hurt her ears. "Damnnn, Blondie. That's cold."
She let him chuckle for a moment longer before nodding her head. "As cold as shooting someone you've never even met in Australia?"
The sick grin slid from Sawyer's face. It was replaced by an even more hideous scowl. "The hell you know about that?" he growled.
"I know a lot of things, James." She didn't enjoy being cryptic, but she couldn't tell him everything, either.
"You don't know jack shit," he hissed back, and kicked one leg out in front of him, adjusting his position.
"I know enough," she sighed, and let some sand sift through her fingers. "I certainly understand how it feels to have regrets."
He scoffed, but didn't argue. They sat in silence for several long moments, and Juliet began to feel her shoulders ease. She hadn't asked for company, but she couldn't deny that once it was clear he wasn't there to kill her, his warmth radiating from his body actually provided a semblance of comfort.
Juliet heard low talking, coming from behind her. She turned her head to look, and saw Jack and Kate, their heads bowed low, whispering in urgent tones. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she felt Sawyer tense beside her. He'd heard them too.
She turned back to the ocean, not wanting to watch. It stung a little, seeing them together, though it shouldn't. Jack wasn't hers. Just another thing in a long, long list of things that would never be.
Sawyer sighed, and Juliet felt her hand cover his atop the sand. It took them both by surprise, and she almost pulled back, but his wide eyes stopped her. If he wasn't going to kill her before, maybe he would now.
"Maybe we have more in common than you think," she whispered softly, and removed her hand. He kept looking at her, even as she faced the ocean again. He didn't argue. He didn't attack her, either.
Maybe in time… maybe he'd see eventually. That if he was a monster, she was a monster too.
#12 - Long Story Short
And he's passing by
Rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky
And he feels like home
If the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go
"Thanks for coming, Jim," Amy said with a giggle and a snort. "But really, I think she's prolly gonna be fiiine." She moved aside anyway, letting James into the house.
He gave her a small nod. "I know. I just ain't ever been drunk-dialed by 'er before."
Amy laughed. "We both did it. I called Horace at work. Shhhh, don't tell him." She snorted again, and James raised his eyebrows at the sight before him. Juliet was lying on her stomach on Amy's shag rug, petting the long fibers and trying to twirl them around her pointer finger. He stood near her knees, and Juliet rolled on her back to be able to look at him better. A wide grin broke out over her face.
"Jamesss!" she cried, in soft surprise. "I haven't seen you in so long. Why - why are you so tall? Did you grow?" Her eyebrows furrowed and Amy giggled again behind them. Bottles of wine littered the coffee table, and soft jazz played from the record player. Girls night, it seemed, had been a success.
He shook his head in disbelief. She was wasted. "Come on up, sunshine. We gotta get you home."
Juliet wiggled and rolled until her face was closer to James's legs, and reached out her arms to squeeze them. Luckily, he maintained his balance against her vice grip, but she hugged his legs tightly against her cheek. "Mmmm… home…" she sighed happily, and James looked to Amy for help. But Amy was lying in a chair with her eyes closed, bobbing her head lightly to the music. Amy wasn't going to help him.
So, he bent down, scooped Juliet up under her armpits, and hauled her to her feet. Her bright pink cheeks paled a little at the sudden shift in her center of gravity, but he clung tightly to her to keep her from falling.
"Oh my gosh I grew," she whispered, and looked at him with wild eyes.
James snickered, in total and complete disbelief. "Yeah, you did. Now, let's get goin'." He took her hand and they started walking to the door. It was like leading a blind Bambi, and she had to clutch at his upper arm with both hands to keep from falling down.
"Byeee, Amy!" she called out, and Amy waved in her general direction, eyes still closed. James made a mental note to call Horace once he got Juliet settled.
They made it through the front door, and James could tell the walk home was going to be a hassle. "Hop on my back, Blondie," James instructed, and bent low so Juliet could climb on. But she didn't move.
"I don't… I don't know how… you're like a tree."
James rolled his eyes. "Come on, just - just lean your stomach against my back, okay? Then wrap your legs around my stomach and I'll hoist ya up. It's easy."
"I can't lift my legs up, silly. I need my legs!" she shrieked.
James almost smacked himself in frustration. He bent lower, reaching behind himself to grab the backs of her thighs. She made a loud whooping sound but after a minute of adjusting, he finally got her in a comfortable piggy-back position.
They walked home in silence, her arms loosely draped over his shoulders and her cheek resting against his head. She may be tall, but she was slender, and James was fortunate his job kept him in shape. It was actually kind of nice, holding her like this.
"James?" she asked, the sound muffled.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Do you love me?"
James almost skidded to a halt, confused as hell by her question, but he forced himself to keep going. "Course I do. You know that."
"Yeah. I think so."
"Think so?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah. You're good to me." He didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. "James?" she asked again, after another moment.
"Hmm?"
"I love you so much I think it's gonna kill me."
James's stomach iced over. What the fuck? "What do you mean, Juliet?"
She tried to shrug, but it only flopped her head to the other side. "I… I dunnooo. Like… I love you so much, right? And I see you and I think my heart's gonna explode. You can't live with a 'sploded heart, James. You just can't." She stated it matter-of-factly, as if he should know this. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at her. 'Says the doctor'... This was wild.
"You're right. You can't," he agreed, and set her down as they approached their front door. He walked her inside, her wobbly legs only carrying her so far before she attempted to bend down to crawl. He picked her up again, wedding style, and brought her into the bedroom. He helped her take off her jeans and her top, unhooking her bra and placing one of his t-shirts over her head.
He was careful not to jostle her, and she looked at him like he was made of gold all the while. The pure, unfiltered love in her eyes was enough to shatter him completely. He could barely stand to see it. He could still hardly believe he'd gotten so goddamn lucky, but nevertheless he felt completely undeserving of it.
He sat her up in the bed, went into the kitchen, and filled up a glass of water. He forced her to drink at least half of the liquid before allowing her to settle down into the covers. She shined, looking up at him, almost like she was lit from within. Her smile was wide and unburdened, and he took a mental snapshot of her like this. He wanted to remember this forever.
"Feel good to be home?" he asked her, tenderly brushing back her golden hair from her face. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and taking a deep, satisfied breath.
"I already was," she whispered, eyes still closed.
James pursed his lips in confusion. "No, you were at Amy's," he reminded her gently.
Juliet shook her head, smiling harder. "I was with you, silly goose. You're the only home I need."
His hand stilled. She reached up both hands to hold his one, and kissed his hand repeatedly. James's chest burst open, like his heart had exploded.
"You get some sleep, okay baby?" he whispered, feeling the tension behind his eyes. She finally opened hers, her blue eyes piercing into his with a clarity he hadn't expected.
"Okay, baby," she whispered back. He brushed her hair back one more time, startled by the nickname she never used for him, and moved to stand. She couldn't walk, but somehow her reflexes were untainted by the wine. She gripped his wrist hard.
"Don't leave me," she whimpered, suddenly looking panicked. James grit his jaw.
"Never, Juliet. Never."
He removed his jeans and shirt, lying behind her. He pulled her back into his chest, and she cradled his hand to hers. It felt good to be home.
#13 - Marjorie
And if I didn't know better
I'd think you were talking to me now
If I didn't know better
I'd think you were still around
What died didn't stay dead…
…You're alive in my head
Whiskey… he only had whiskey. He wanted beer, but whiskey would do the trick, he supposed. Did it even matter? Actually you know, whiskey would do the job faster. Yeah - whiskey was the way to go. Beer took too long. Whiskey would do just fine.
He guzzled it down, savoring the burn. The dehydration helped the alcohol seep into his blood faster. It only took minutes for the pain to fuzz and dull at the edges. This wasn't even his house anymore, but it didn't feel weird - getting drunk here. It was fine, good a place as any to get hammered. Least he had a roof over his head if it rained. Yeah, here was just fine.
He didn't know where he wanted to be though. The dining room felt safest. But the living room was also fine. He was surrounded by memories either way. Did he want to be? Isn't that why he was here, and not in any of the other dozen houses available? If he wanted to suffer and be surrounded by memories, maybe the bedroom was the place to go. That would hurt the worst. Did he want to hurt though? Did he even have control over that? The whiskey was supposed to dull everything - maybe it didn't matter where he did it.
He went to the bedroom. He shucked off his pants and long-sleeved shirt. His wife beater was stained and he was certain he reeked, but he didn't care. He threw the clothes on the floor just because she wasn't here to fuss at him, telling him not to.
He set the bottle on the nightstand, noticing for the first time that the comforter had changed. Their stuff wasn't in the room anymore. He looked around, blearily observing the changes in his surroundings, not sure if it helped or hurt.
Their life was gone and so was their stuff. Most of it, at least. He still had the shoebox.
He closed his eyes, regret filling him to the brim. He stuffed it back down, chasing down the nausea with even more whiskey. When he opened his eyes, he flinched. Maybe he'd choked or died of alcohol poisoning. He could only be so lucky. But Juliet stood before him, wearing her dark jeans and magenta top. Her hair was wavy, rolling down her shoulders, and she looked upon him with pity. There wasn't a drop of blood on her.
"Hi," she whispered, and her small voice reverberated in the room. James squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them again, she was still there.
"What the…" he breathed, as his eyes roamed over her. His head was swimming. "This isn't real…this can't be real… it's in my head or somethin'..." he murmured incoherently.
She shrugged one shoulder. "Even if it's in your head, does that make it any less real?"
"I don't…" James didn't have an answer. He didn't know what to say.
Juliet nodded sadly, and sat beside him on the bed. He felt the weight of it shift, but still he remained frozen, completely glued to the spot. He looked at her, and she looked… She looked whole. But he was scared to touch her. If she felt cold to the touch… he would come unglued.
"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice coming out more like a squeak. "How?" Juliet said nothing. She smiled wistfully, like she knew something he didn't know. He didn't like it. "I can't do this," James cried, the shaking finally spreading from his hands to his entire body. "I can't keep livin' like this. I can't."
"You have to, James. Your people need you."
"They ain't my people anymore!" he suddenly roared, unable to stop himself. "You're my people."
"Not anymore," she whispered, and it broke James apart. The tears streamed down his face. He didn't know if this was his Juliet or his own subconscious - either way it was torturing him.
"I can't do this," he said through his sobs. She placed a warm hand atop his trembling one.
"Yes, you can. And you will. You'll do it for me. All I wanted was for you to go home."
"Bullshit! You're my home, Juliet. And you fucking LEFT!" She pursed her lips, and he took another deep swig of the whiskey. He wanted to drink so much he died, right here, right now.
He tried to take another drink, but he started coughing. She let him, but as soon as the coughing settled, she placed her palm upon his arm. He hated it. "Stop," she commanded, with full authority. He bit his lip, wanting more. He wanted her hands all over him. He wanted her tongue in his mouth, his hands in her silky hair. But it felt wrong. Everything about this felt wrong.
"I can't," he said again, knowing he sounded like a broken record.
"You can," she assured him. She pursed her lips once more before adding, "I love you, James. You are the strongest man I know. You can get through anything. You need to leave this island, and soon. I can't come with you, but I'll always be with you, if you want me to be."
It didn't make any fucking sense to James. If she can't go with him, then how can she be with him? It irritated the hell out of him that she'd even implied that.
"I don't wanna leave," he admitted, and his body hiccupped. Juliet's touch kept him anchored. It always did.
"I know. But you have to. They need you. Everything will be okay someday, you'll see." She placed a kiss atop his head and James felt his insides contract. He wanted to savor the feeling of her closeness, but she stood up before he could. He reached out his hands, desperate to feel her skin again.
Suddenly there was so much he wanted - no, needed - to say: I love you. I'm sorry. I'll never forgive myself. But the words wouldn't come. His desperation made his tongue dry and his body felt out of his control.
She gave a final wave. "You're going to be okay," she said again, with a confidence James couldn't believe in. She stepped beyond the threshold of the door, and suddenly the panic settled in. He rocketed to his feet, swaying as he did. He held onto the walls, desperate to chase after her. But she was gone.
He cried for a long time. So long, in fact, that at some point the sun set and the crickets began to chirp. He fell asleep on the floor, unable to move, hoping he'd be lucky enough to aspirate before the sun rose.
When he awoke the next morning, it was to John Locke's concerned face staring down at him.
"Hello, James."
#14 - Closure
It's been a long time
And seeing the shape of your name
Still spells out pain
Clementine already told him the name of the play. He'd heard her rehearsing her lines, over and over and over again. She'd asked him to sub in for Romeo when she was over at his place visiting, to help her practice, but he'd refused. Miles did it instead, usually on speakerphone from his home in L.A.
Sitting in the darkened high school auditorium, James didn't know how he was going to get through this. He was proud of his kid, sure. She'd earned this and worked hard at it all these months of after-school rehearsals.
But goddamnit, it just had to be this fucking play.
Miles sat beside him and elbowed him when the opening music started. Some saccharine tones that some other kids had probably been rehearsing for months. It made his stomach twist, knowing he was going to have to sit through hours of this.
He couldn't deny she looked beautiful. From his vantage point, he could tell she was loaded with makeup (which he loathed) but she was completely covered (which made up for it, he guessed). He didn't know how she'd memorized all these lines, but she looked completely at ease. He knew that wasn't the case - she'd been a basket case of nerves when they'd left Cassidy's house - but he was proud of her nonetheless.
Juliet had been a hell of an actor, too.
By the time they reached intermission, James was sweating through his clothes. He could feel it running down his spine. He'd go outside for fresh air, but it was Albuquerque and he'd just end up sweating more if he left the air conditioning.
Miles, knowing how hard this was, bought him a bottle of water and slapped his back, the only encouragement he planned on offering his friend. He knew it was hard. Hell, it was hard on him too. 'Juliet' this, and 'Juliet' that… it hurt, hearing her name over and over again, and he wasn't even the one in love with her.
When Juliet dies in the end, James is biting his knuckles so hard, Miles is concerned he'll draw blood. In the reflection of the stage lights, he could see the unshed tears in his eyes and felt sick to his stomach, not knowing what to do or what to say to make this better. He knew there was nothing to be done.
The lights came on, and the teenage actors came out to do a final bow. Clementine spotted them, smiling as she received a thunderous applause. James finally let a few tears slip down his face, but Miles knew it wasn't due to fatherly pride. Let Clementine think what she will, though, he figured. She knew her father had been in love once, and had lost that love. But he never talked about her. He doubted very much that Clementine knew the pain this play was causing him.
James drove back to his apartment, and Miles to his hotel. He planned on heading back out to L.A. in the morning. James, recently relocated to New Mexico, still had boxes left unpacked. He dumped one unceremoniously onto the floor, its contents sliding across the linoleum, before ripping apart the cardboard with his bare hands. He tore and ripped until his hands were sore.
But it was over now. He'd done it. And he'd go to the next three shows, too. If only to hear her name over and over and over again.
#15 - Evermore
Gray November, I've been down since July
Motion capture put me in a bad light
I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone
Trying to find the one where I went wrong
Writing letters, addressed to the fire
And I was catching my breath
Staring out an open window catching my death
And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar
That this pain would be for evermore
James stood on the front porch, palms sweating and breaths coming out in erratic pants. He knew he looked bad - the red eye to Miami plus the binger he'd gone on two days prior… he wouldn't blame Rachel if she didn't see fit to answer the door. But on the phone, she'd sounded intrigued enough to hear what he had to say. He hoped it would be enough.
The door swung open, and a short woman with dark blonde hair stood behind it. She looked at him warily, as he suspected she would. But her comment was nothing like what he'd expected her to say. "You look like shit."
It was enough to make him laugh, which he hadn't done in… God… four months now? It felt strangled and strange, coming from his lungs. More like a cough.
She invited him inside and he awkwardly twisted the spiral notebook in his hands, the metal bent and twisted so badly out of shape, it was hard to even open anymore. He forgot why he'd brought it with him, but perhaps he was worried seeing Rachel would make him lose all train of thought and the only way he could convince her he was legit was to let her see inside his memories. This notebook, something Miles of all people had suggested, contained everything James longed to never forget.
She brought him a bottle of water, and he took it eagerly. They sat together at the dining room table, awkwardly sizing the other up.
"You going to tell me why you're here?" she asked finally, cutting straight to the point. She was sharper than her sister, but no nonsense all the same.
"I told you on the phone," he explained, but she cut him off.
"I know what you said on the phone. It's the only reason I gave you my address at all. Then you show up, looking like you're one drink removed from needing to go to rehab. So let's cut to the chase. How do you know my sister?"
He almost laughed again. There were dozens of ways to answer that question. They met when he stumbled upon her in the jungle, and she'd been so unexpectedly hot that his brain had completely stopped working and she'd tased him. Or, he could say he knows her from warring with her people over absolutely nothing, and how she switched sides in the end. He could skip how they met, and simply say he knew her sister well. Better than anyone, except probably Rachel herself. He could say he loved her inside and out; had known her so well he knew what she felt like, what she tasted like, what she smelled like, and could almost read her mind by the end, simply from body language alone. But he couldn't make himself say those words out loud.
"How 'bout I just start from the beginning?" he offered with a sigh. "You ain't gonna believe half of it, and that's your business, but I owe her this. She'd want you to know." Rachel's mouth twisted in a suspicious grimace, but she nodded. She'd hear him out. He'd come this far, after all. Maybe she'd finally get answers, after all this time.
So James told her. He recalled the plane crash, which already got her scoffing (they found that plane, she argued) and he told her it was staged. He told her about how the Oceanic 6 lied, and pulled from his notebook a letter from Oceanic, offering him a settlement. Her jaw dropped, but she continued listening with rapt attention.
He skipped ahead to the warring factions, and how Juliet was working for the people who'd kidnapped her. He told her about that day, how someone was watching her in Acadia Park. Her face paled, not knowing how he could have known that. But he digressed. He discussed her cancer cure; the work Juliet was doing with women on the island; how she lost those patients and how it destroyed her.
Rachel wanted to know why on earth Juliet would ever help the people who'd kidnapped her, and James reminded her: survival. Rachel placed her fingers over her mouth and sat back in her chair. She listened as he told her about how they thought they were going to be rescued, but it was really the person who'd staged the wreckage in the trench. He didn't want the survivors found. He told her about how Juliet had given up her seat, in order to ensure that everyone else got off first. Rachel cried, and James gave her a minute to process.
When he got to the time travel… he paused. She'd never in a million years believe that and it might ruin everything he'd struggled to build so far, so he left that part out. He said they lived in the same houses, but the people who'd taken Juliet had abandoned them. He told stories instead, focusing on their moments together and what Juliet had told him about her childhood. He knew things that only Juliet and Rachel knew, and Rachel had to leave more than once to collect herself from hearing it.
James needed a break too, feeling like his chest was being ripped open with every word. He could hear Rachel crying in the hall bathroom, and he took the opportunity to relocate into the living room where he couldn't eavesdrop. He found a photo of Juliet on an end table, and it was enough to send him reeling. When Rachel returned, she found James crying, tracing his finger over Juliet's face.
"She hated that photo," Rachel offered as she sat beside James.
James grunted before wiping his inner wrist against his face. He hated that he'd been caught. "Sorry, I didn't mean - " he started to say, but Rachel interrupted.
"No. I can tell you loved her… I'm sure seeing her photo isn't easy."
"She didn't like gettin' her picture taken, I know that," he said with a wry smile. "I tried once, with this old polaroid we found." Ordered off the sub, not found, but it didn't matter. "I took her picture and she kept sayin' she looked bad. So I stuck it in an old shoebox. Left the box behind, but… I remember the photo. We were on the beach and she was just… God, she was beautiful." His voice cracked again and he stopped talking.
Rachel placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Look… we've both been through a lot. You've given me a lot to think about, and I still have so many questions… but I can't take much more of this today. Can we just… Can we pause, and pick back up tomorrow?" she whispered. Her voice was soft, and as close to Juliet's as he'd ever heard it.
James nodded. He couldn't take much more of this, either. He needed something strong to drink and he needed it now. He rose to leave, and Rachel called out to him. "Here. Take this," she offered almost shyly, handing him the frame.
He took it gently, hands shaking. When he looked up at Rachel, finally meeting her eyes for the first time in at least a half hour, she looked… relieved. He wondered if she believed anything he said. And if she did, was it only because she wanted to think her sister had lived, somewhere out there, even if it had been without her?
He sighed and offered up the notebook. "My friend, he… he recommended I write shit down. Shit I didn't wanna forget. They're not… it's not cohesive. But if you wanted to read it or whatever, you can."
She smiled but didn't take the notebook. "I'd rather hear about it from you directly," she said. "When you come back tomorrow. And hey… Thanksgiving's only in a few days. I don't know when you were planning on flying back, but if you wanted to stay… I make a really good turkey." James felt his stomach lurch into his throat.
She should be here. Not him. She should have made it off the island. He should be the one who'd died. But that's not what happened. And he tried to imagine what she'd say, if she were here. Some of her last words to him had been that she just wanted him to be able to go home. The least he could do was try - for her - right?
"Yeah, okay. I can come back tomorrow and… maybe I can stay for Thanksgiving, too."
Rachel beamed. "I'm so glad. We still have… a lot to catch up on. And hey… we still have a lot to be thankful for, yeah? You're alive. And I know you told me on the phone already that she… I know. But she got to live longer than I'd thought. And she found love. And love is always something to be thankful for."
James felt the burning return to his eyes, and his erratic heartbeat crescendoed in his chest. He needed out of there. Now.
Without another word, he nodded and made his way towards the door, twisting the notebook aggressively in his hands. He got into his car, letting the tears fall once more. But even he had to admit… it hurt a little bit less now than it had hours before, when he'd arrived.
Maybe he had something to be thankful for after all.
And I was catching my breath
Floors of a cabin creaking under my step
And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar
This pain wouldn't be for evermore
#16 - Right Where You Left Me
Help, I'm still at the restaurant
Still sitting in a corner I haunt, cross-legged in the dim light
They say, "What a sad sight"
I stayed there, dust collected on my pinned-up hair
I'm sure that you got a wife out there, kids and Christmas but I'm unaware
I cause no harm, mind my business
If our love died young, I can't bear witness…
…I'm right where you left me
You left me no choice but to stay here forever
"You wanna play Go Fish?" Hurley asked, wiggling a deck of cards in his hand.
Juliet shrugged. "Sure. But I mean, there're other card games."
"Yeah but this one's easy and no one else ever wants to play."
Juliet chuckled and sat down at the table across from Hurley. "Maybe because it's too easy. Meant for children."
Hurley shrugged and shuffled the cards. "Sometimes it's good, you know, throwing back to stuff you used to like as a kid. Everyone else always wants to play poker or rummy or other adult stuff. But Go Fish is a classic, dude."
Juliet laughed again. She didn't mind. "Okay. Whatever you want is fine."
Hurley dealt the cards, and placed the remaining stack in the center of the table. He waited for her to go first. She grinned politely, asking him if he had any sixes. He replied, "Go Fish."
It took a few minutes before either was willing to break the silence, but as expected, Hurley couldn't wait any longer. "So… I know you said you can't say anything, but…"
"I can't tell you, Hurley. I'm sorry." She shot him a pained look, knowing how much he longed to know what was on the other side. She couldn't say, and it only hurt her when he asked. She hated keeping things from him.
He sighed, but nodded. "I know. Charlie said the same thing. Michael too. Any fours?"
"Go fish." They lasted two more rounds before he spoke again. "Why do you visit me, if you can't talk about it?"
Juliet smiled. "Because. You're protecting the island now. That can't be easy."
Hurley shrugged. "I mean, it's okay. I don't mind it all that much."
"I'm glad. But… I don't know. I just like to visit, when I can. Is that okay?" she asked tentatively. She knew he was sensitive about his Ghostly Intuition. He refused to call it a superpower, so she'd suggested the alternate name instead.
"Yeah! Of course. You can visit whenever. I guess I just figured you'd wanna visit Sawyer instead." The words hit Juliet harder than she'd anticipated, and she set down her cards. "Oh crap! I'm sorry… I didn't mean to make you sad or anything…" Hurley tried backpedaling, but Juliet flashed him a practiced smile.
"No, it's okay. Really. It's just… he can't see me. Not the way you can. And I can't leave the island anyway, so…"
"But just like, for now, right? Like, you're not trapped here forever are you?"
Juliet swallowed. "I don't think so. Not forever. Do you ever feel like you're waiting for something? Like… when you walk into the kitchen for something and don't remember what it was you were looking for? Or you feel like you've made an appointment because a date sounds familiar to you, but you can't remember why?" Hurley nodded, his cards also flat on the table. His eyes were wide as saucers and Juliet wondered if perhaps she was saying too much. She licked her lips, searching for the right words. "It's kind of like that. I know I'm here, now, for the time being. But something in my gut tells me it won't be forever. I just… don't know why."
Hurley frowned. "You gotta move on," he suggested. She shrugged one shoulder.
"Maybe. But I'm not sure I have much control over that."
"That sounds like it really sucks. I'm sorry, dude." His sympathy tugged hard on her heart. He was always so loving and caring of others. He made a great protector, but he didn't necessarily deserve this lonely fate either.
"I know, Hurley. But I'm okay. Really. Or I guess, I will be." He seemed satisfied with her answer, because he picked up his cards and they resumed. Juliet asked for a nine, which Hurley had. Hurley asked for a one, which Juliet had. They continued playing until Hurley finally won. Juliet smiled at him, and offered to shuffle for another round.
"Ya know… I know you can't tell me about what comes next or whatever, cuz of some like, weird cosmic rule thing, but I can tell you stuff…" he offered slowly, eyeing her to try and gauge her reaction. She sucked in a large breath (ironic, because she didn't need to breathe anymore), and found her non-alive heart racing at the prospect. Did she even want to know? If he told her James and Kate were off living their lives… how would that make her feel? She wanted him to be happy, and she was certainly grateful he'd made it off the island, but still…
"I don't know if I could handle that, Hurley," she whispered, and hated the way her voice cracked. Hurley nodded.
"Well, if you wanna know, I'll tell you. But can I just say one thing? I think it'll make you feel better." She highly doubted that, but she nodded all the same. "Sawyer lives in Texas, but he visits your sister sometimes. They hangout and stuff and I think he told her everything. So… if it brings you any peace or whatever, she knows what happened now."
Out of all the things she thought Hurley would say, it wasn't that. The cards fell from her hands and the air whooshed from her lungs, along with a short, almost strangled cry that Juliet hadn't meant to do. She clasped her hand over her mouth and stared at him, completely agape.
"Oh crap… should I not have said that? Crap - I'm sorry…" he started to say, but Juliet laughed.
"NO! That's… oh my God… I can't believe…" She didn't know what to say. "I… he's not in L.A.?"
"No, why would he live there? Just because he used to?"
"Well… because…"
Hurley's eyebrows raised and he made a soft little sound of understanding. "Ohhh, you think he shacked up with Kate? Deffffinitely not, dude. He's workin' on like a ranch or something? But he lives halfway between Rachel and his kid. Did you know he has a kid?"
Juliet laughed again, feeling relief singing through her veins. "I did, yeah… did he finally meet her?"
"Yeah. He gets to see her every few months. But he seems to be doing okay. He works alone, which he likes. I see him maybe once a year or something, but it's been a while… Do you… want me to tell him anything…?" Hurley offered, twisting his lips to the side.
Juliet considered. If James was doing okay, would hearing from her destroy any progress he'd made? Sure, she was elated that he wasn't with Kate but he kept up with Rachel, which meant part of him still cared about her… she didn't want to cause him any more stress than she already had.
"No. He needs to move on. Hearing from me will only make things worse, I think… but I'll leave that up to you. If you see him, and if he asks… I'll leave it up to you." She grinned, head swimming with the knowledge that everyone she loved was doing alright. It felt so good, she felt almost lightheaded.
And then it hit her.
"Hurley, I think this is going to be our last visit…" she whispered, and Hurley nodded, like he knew. "But I wanted to say thank you… for everything you've done. You're a good friend."
"I know," Hurley said sheepishly. She took his hand in hers, and she could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes.
Juliet felt lighter than she had in years. She felt completely at peace, and as she walked outside into the bright island sunshine, she could almost swear she smelled the smog and heard the traffic of L.A instead.
#17 - It's Time to Go
When your dinner is cold and the chatter gets old
You ask for the tab
Or that moment again, he's insisting that friends
Look at each other like that
Juliet was shaking so hard it was almost difficult to walk. Branches kept slapping at her face, her neck, her arms, but her reaction times were delayed. Her mind was racing, and even worse, her heart was breaking.
James, clear-headed and laser-focused, trudged ahead, not deigning to stop and see if she was okay. Which, of course, why would he? His precious Freckles was his focus now. He'd made that abundantly clear.
By the third stumble, she heard him let out a loud sigh. She felt like a child, about to be berated by her father for not watching where she was going, or not being more careful. She was so sure he was going to chastise her for slowing them all down that his touch made her gasp aloud.
He laid his hands on her shoulders and stared hard into her face.
"Sawyer?" Kate called, wondering why they were stopping.
"You go on ahead. We'll catch up," he assured her without leaving Juliet's face. Kate only paused a moment longer before turning around and continuing on.
Juliet didn't want to meet James's eyes. If she did, she was very likely to fall apart. She wanted so badly to take a page out of his book and focus solely on the anger instead of the hurt. She wanted the rage to replace the pain - it was far easier to deal with. But she could never do that as well as he could. It was just another thing that made her weak.
"Look at me," James murmured, hands still placed hard on her shoulders. Juliet looked at his chin, consciously avoiding his request like a petulant child. "No. Look at me, Juliet," he said again, and brought his hands to either side of her face. He stooped his neck and forced himself into her field of vision, and just as she'd suspected, her stomach lurched and her throat burned as his eyes swam into focus.
"I don't want to," she whispered, and felt her resolve crumbling with each word.
"Why?" he whispered back, actually sounding hurt. She hadn't expected that, so she shook her head, trying to remove his hands from her face. But he wouldn't budge. "Tell me," he said, his voice low and uncertain. His face was inches from hers and his calloused hands were now creeping into her hairline. She almost felt suffocated by his presence. It was too much.
"You… You looked at her," Juliet whispered, regretful of the way her voice cracked on the last word. It sounded ridiculous, just those four words. They didn't paint the whole picture. They didn't explain the depth of the pain in her soul, knowing that she'd always been second, all this time. She couldn't possibly begin to make him understand the swirling emotions battling within her right now, any more than she could even process them herself.
James shook his head, mouth slightly agape. He didn't understand. And Juliet certainly didn't owe him an explanation, but… she found herself trying anyway. "Bernard and Rose… they just want to live their lives with the one they love. And you… you want to live your life with Kate. I'd almost forgotten… but I remember now…" She dipped her chin, willing back the tears that were yearning to break free.
James released her, as if she'd burned him. His eyes were wild and unfocused, and he ran his hands through his hair, making some of the pieces stand on end. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" he practically hissed at her, as if this were all her fault. "I don't want Kate!" He spat her name like a curse, like it was a dirty word he could barely even stand to say. He was acting as if Juliet had insulted him, which caught her so off-guard, her tears froze behind her eyes.
"You looked at her, not at me. You want her, not me. I saw it happen. I was there."
James's face grew grave. "I don't know what the hell you think you saw. But I've only felt pity for the girl since she got back. Yeah, I missed her - sure. She was my friend once. But Jesus Christ, Juliet. You seen the way the Doc treats her? They're both so goddamn toxic to each other, it just makes me feel bad for her. They ain't ever gonna have what we got."
Juliet blanched. Her lips fell apart, and she felt her stomach twist. James shook his head, looking stunned. "You really thought I wanted her? After everything we been through, you 'n me?" He looked hurt.
"I thought… you loved her, James. I saw it."
"That was over three damn years ago! I love you. You're the only one for me. It don't matter what we used to have. I want you," he growled. As if to further convince her, his hands took up their previous positions on either side of her face and his mouth assailed hers. He stole the very breath from her lungs, crushing her both physically with his towering body and strong hands, but also emotionally.
Juliet didn't know what to feel. She felt stupid for misreading the situation, but indignant at the same time, as she knows what she saw. She felt guilty for hurting him with her interpretation, but validated too, because anyone would have thought the same thing, seeing what she saw. But more than all that, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to love him and she didn't want things to change, even though they already had. She desperately wanted him to want her, and if she chose to believe him… either he was lying, and he would hurt her, or she'd throw away the one good thing she still had left in this life, all over a misunderstanding.
He finally broke away, and they were both gasping. Juliet felt herself stumble, but he caught her. As if he needed to say it again, he murmured, "I love you," with all the desperation he could muster. He looked devastated.
"You don't still love her?" Juliet squeaked, still trying to find her voice.
James shook his head. He sighed before answering, "Not the way I love you. She's my friend. Nothin' more."
It would have to do. Juliet made her choice, for once choosing what would make her happy, rather than what she felt she had to do. Because in any other situation, it would have been enough to send her running for the hills. But he looked at her with such longing, she couldn't help but reciprocate. She placed her lips against his one last time, before nodding in agreement.
"We should go catch up," she said with finality, and they headed back in the direction they'd been traveling. Hand in hand, Juliet no longer found herself stumbling.
A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought and which ones were your favorites! :)